


Wishes

by FairyLights101



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 01:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6136426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And, for the first time, Kenma wishes the moment would never end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishes

Sometimes, Kenma wishes he’d never been born. It’s a strange thing to think, he eventually realizes, but when the kids pull on his hair and pick on him and take his games, it’s all he can think. Sometimes, he wishes they’d all go away, but they don’t, not until Kuroo comes into the picture and chases them away with flapping hands and angry words. 

And Kenma stops wishing that, for the most part, though he can’t help it when the thoughts sneak in, always when he’s on the train, hair hanging just so because he doesn’t want to see anyone and he doesn’t want them to see him. Or when he plays volleyball and hears the whispers, especially at first. It’s enough to make him cry often, but Kuroo ruffles his hair and talks about games until Kenma can sit up and dry his eyes for good. And, he wishes he’d never picked up volleyball, but he did it for Kuroo after all, because his best (and if he was honest, his  _ only _ ) friend had asked him to. 

That desire fades, but it lingers, and it doesn’t change until they go to Karasuno, and then he stops wishing he’d quit because there he sees that ray of sunshine, that small boy with a chipper smile and startlingly intense eyes and a shock of orange hair. A boy who leaps for the sky and seems like he’ll never come down, who has a laugh that can liven even the worst of situations. And he starts wishing for something else. That he lived in Miyagi, or that Shoyo lived in Tokyo. That one of them could visit, just for the weekend, just for the break. 

He lives on Shoyo’s texts, feels his chest grow tight, and his cheeks flush when he sees the familiar slew of exclamation points and happy emoticons, and it hurts him when those are missing from his texts. All he wants is for Shoyo to be happy, and even though he’s terrible with his words, he awkwardly types out messages, praying they make the teen smile. He sends him pictures of cats and birds, because he knows Shoyo loves those. He texts until his fingers are numb, and that’s saying something considering his habits, but he doesn’t mind. Not at all. He just wishes that the ache in his chest would ease, that Shoyo would see past the thin film holding him back. 

Kuroo laughs at him and claps his back when he finally gets it out of Kenma (and, much to the blond’s disappointment, it hadn’t taken much to for Kuroo to see his affection - Shoyo’s texts are the only ones he smiled at, and he always lunges for his phone when he is expecting them, and he can't stop the words  _ “Shoyo told me” _ or  _ “Shoyo likes this” _ or a thousand other things, all relating to him). 

Kuroo does that and he tells him he’s in deep. Says he needs to go pay Hinata a visit and ask him out, grab his hand, kiss him, because there’s no way someone sends someone what seems like a thousand messages a day without liking the one they’re talking to. And that scares him. The idea of someone being something more, the idea of having such crippling feelings for someone, makes Kenma want to run away, and all he wants is to understand  _ why.  _ Kenma - hell, he doesn’t know how he gets out of that conversation, and never will, but his friend’s words lay heavy on his mind. Especially when he texts Shoyo. 

And he wishes he could see Shoyo everyday like his friends and classmates can. Longs to see that brilliant smile and the boy who reminds him of the sun, who makes Kenma’s rainy days evaporate and leaves clear skies in his wake. But he can’t, not as often as he’d like. Still, he manages to make it there frequently enough to get a dose a sunshine that tides him over until the next one (but just barely). 

Though, with all the times he visits (or, more rare, when Shoyo comes to see him), he never says a thing. He keeps his hands and lips and declarations of affection (which he finds absurd, terrifying,  _ thrilling _ ) to himself, though it’s hard with Shoyo. The spiker is always clamoring for affection and contact, and he’s so  _ warm _ , and it’s like he’s the sun and Kenma is a planet, caught helplessly in orbit around that radiant blaze. 

And he wishes he’d never escape. 

He wishes the dream he’d had, the one where they’d been close without stepping into territory that scared him, could have stayed. He wishes that he’d never went to see Shoyo over spring break under the pretense that he and Kuroo were going to be in town for a few days anyway. It all comes crashing down then when he sees them outside an udon stand, Shoyo and Kageyama. There’s no mistaking it, even as he begs it to be a lie. The soft looks. The hands locked together. The way Shoyo so readily leans in, and Kageyama meets him halfway for a quick kiss. And Kenma can’t watch. 

The setter just staggers away, clutching at his chest, and all of a sudden he can’t breathe, and everything’s blurry, and Kuroo’s voice is distant, distant,  _ distant _ . And Kenma wishes he hadn’t seen it because he wants that to be  _ him _ holding Shoyo’s hand and kissing his lips (and God, they must be sweet and soft, and he doubtlessly has the most beautiful face after a heavy kissing session). But he couldn’t say anything before, still can’t, so he takes the first train back to Tokyo, and when Shoyo asks, he drops his phone back onto the bed beside him, the text unanswered. He can’t respond to Shoyo, can’t imagine what he could say without all those poisonous, traitorous feelings bubbling over. 

_ I wish I wish I wish _ . 

But wishes don’t undo time and make things alright, and that leaves him curled up in his room, scowling at the wall as his video games lie abandoned, and it gets to the point where his parents and Kuroo are concerned because Kuroo has to forcibly drag him out, and Shoyo’s texts are worried after nearly two weeks. But Kenma can’t quite bring himself to care. He’s never felt so wrecked before; he’s never had his feelings ripped open and scattered like this, and it’s impossible to control because of that. 

He wishes he could hold Shoyo’s hands - they were warm, but how would their fingers feel interlocked? He wants to kiss him - would his kisses be like fire, raging and untameable, or something slower, like magma that creeps down the side of a mountain? He wants to  _ hold _ him so desperately that his hands ache and even the familiar weight of his DS or controllers can’t erase that. 

And he wishes he could forget. That the smile, those beautiful eyes, the trace of his fingers, and every instance of warmth he’s ever felt from that boy would just leak out of his mind and leave him how he was a year before, blissfully unaware of the tiny ball of energy and pure  _ life _ that is Hinata Shoyo. He wishes he could stop existing. But he can’t, and he doesn’t, and eventually he manages to form a mask for the world. 

Things, at least on the surface, sink back to the way they were for one month, then two. He texts Shoyo. Shoyo texts him. Sometimes he gushes about Kageyama, and it makes Kenma’s gut churn to read those messages, so much that he’s gone and thrown up before because he’s so  _ miserable _ , and Kuroo instantly plucks his phone away if he happens to see that expression. Kenma learns not to fight it. Hell, he even wants it sometimes, late at night, when Shoyo shoots him texts about Kageyama, and he responds just like any good friend would. 

But he’s not a good friend - if he was, his heart wouldn’t be jumping for joy when Shoyo starts to message him about how Kageyama isn’t like he was, how he’s more distant. How he won’t message back. And he shouldn’t be biting his tongue to stop a cry of victory when Shoyo calls him one day near the start of summer, blubbering and stuttering over his words as it all gushes out about how everything’s over. 

He wishes he was a good friend. He wishes he could genuinely be sad for his friend. For the boy he absolutely adores. But, somehow, he’s still a decent friend, because when Shoyo jumps on the first train and comes to see him, face blotchy and eyes wet, he doesn’t pull the spiker in and kiss him. Just makes him hot cocoa and they play games for hours until Shoyo just collapses on his shoulder, utterly exhausted. 

He thinks to himself that he  _ really _ shouldn’t enjoy sniffing that crazy orange hair so much, but it smells sweet. Like strawberries. And he craves more. He wants-  _ oh fuck, he wants _ . It’s all-consuming, demanding, unforgiving, and it’s all he can do to hold back. He tells Kuroo as much, and his friend only shakes his head because “Dammit, Kenma, doing that is what fucked you up the first time.” (He doesn’t want to agree, but he does. Logically, it’s the truth). 

But he’s a good friend. 

He lets Shoyo curl up close (his warmth his utter perfection, leaving Kenma aching for more every time), lets him slowly get past what had been and what could have come. And so for months Kenma orbits Shoyo, hopelessly caught, wishing he could slip out of orbit and collide with that brilliant sun, but instead he just hurtles through space, a companion and not a lover, as summer ends without fanfare and school and volleyball begin. 

Third year. 

All he thinks is:  _ I’m running out of time _ . He texts Shoyo like a madman, tries to take Kuroo’s advice to heart. Flirty texts. Hints that are anything but subtle. Touches that linger a hair too long when they see each other, infrequent as it is. And, just as he’s about to break and give in, Karasuno comes to Tokyo.

He’s in his room when they arrive - he can’t bear to go and meet them, because wouldn’t that look suspicious if he was the only Nekoma player to do that? But he texts Shoyo, lets him know that he’s close to where they’re staying (close enough that he wants to walk there now and steal Shoyo away, but he doesn’t), and Shoyo instantly says he’ll meet him that night - he wants to see Tokyo while they’re there, of course. And Kenma wishes that tomorrow would come quicker, that he could sleep, because the nerves that have suddenly woken in him won’t let him slip off and make everything go faster. 

He’s breathless when he spots Shoyo beneath the overhang of the little hotel they’re staying in, his heart races. He doesn’t even care anymore when he steps in, doesn’t greet Shoyo. Just grabs his friend and holds him tight, impossibly tight, because he’s terrified that if he lets go he’ll never ever see him again or get the chance. 

“S-Shoyo-” 

“Kenma?” 

“ _ Ireallylikeyou _ ,” he blurts, and his words meld together, and Shoyo stares at him in shock for an unbearably long time. Tears prick Kenma’s eyes as they stand there, his hand tight on Shoyo’s, and he desperately prays that the ground would suck him down, that something would finally throw him out of orbit and into the dark reaches of space. Right up until he feels soft lips brush against his, sweet and smelling of the oranges Kenma know’s he ate earlier. Shoyo smiles against his mouth, covers Kenma’s hand with his own, and he presses their foreheads together. 

“Took you long enough.” 

And, for the first time, Kenma wishes the moment would never end.

**Author's Note:**

> Second Haikyuu!! fic and first Kenhina one!  
> I don't write in this style a lot honestly, but it really fits
> 
> Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day/night/existence!


End file.
